{lovecraft estate} hell is empty and all the devils are here || genevieve

It had been one week since the first time Phillip had been assigned to work the Grosvenor case and a whole three weeks since his first day working at the Ministry. The first two weeks were “training,” but Phillip felt like he hadn’t learned anything; then again, Phillip never cared to understand what he was instructed to. Not in Hogwarts, and not even now when he was being paid a measly number of sickles for his time. One of his first jobs out of the office, Phillip had been sent with a small detachment to finish up the paperwork on a raid. There were dark items in a residential home that needed to be confiscated, and Phillip had been tasked with getting Mrs. Reinhardt to sign the proper forms. The damn Ministry loved their paperwork.

He supposed he shouldn’t have thought his job would be more glamourous than a vilified paper pusher, but Phillip had almost gotten his hopes up when he was offered a career in the Cursed Objects office of the Ministry. He had almost though it might be an exciting opportunity. Instead, he’d been threatened by a powerful witch, criticized by old wizards for his poor attitude, and gotten about a thousand parchment cuts from endless hours of filing. And worst of all, Phillip had barely been able to inspect any of the items that had been confiscated from the estate.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have any exposure to them at all, but three weeks in, and Phillip had already started figuring out how to skirt the rules. If he was going to spend two years in this office before being allowed to work his way into the Department of Mysteries, Phillip had decided he was going to make it worth his while. He wasn’t working for the Ministry because he believed in government or wanted to help; Phillip had his own ambitions. And those included getting his hands on dark objects in order to study them and hopefully learn a bit more about the sorts of magic that could help him understand what happened to his family. Everything he did was somehow attached to that singular goal, and when Phillip realized one of the objects taken in the raid might have held answers for him, he disregarded protocol entirely.

Phillip fudged up some paperwork on purpose, spilling a bit of ink in a way that not even magic could fix, and let his superiors reprimand him. He groaned and clenched his jaw as he was given the unfortunate assignment of returning to Mrs. Reinhardt’s home and begging for a secondary signature, but that had been his intention all along. Phillip packed his bag and apparated to the fence once more but getting inside a second time wouldn’t be so easy.

“Hello!” He shouted from the wrought-iron gates, assuming someone (or something) would be round soon enough to inspect the unannounced visitor.

It had not been her intention to visit with the Lovecraft Estate for so long, in fact, after being so rudely uninvited to the ruining of her family artifacts, she had almost been certain that they would do what they could to send her away as quickly as possible. Nevertheless, there was so much busy to tend to, so much that her aunts had left to the wind in lieu of their personal pursuits, that the young heiress felt compelled to stay long enough to set things in order. It was times like these that Genevieve wished that she was not so unjustly judged by her age and the silly write ups in the Prophet and that her mother’s family took her for more than just a pretty face married to a man with deep pockets.

“Effie, bring those other there, the old accounting books,” she waved dismissively in the corner as her blue-grey eyes skimmed along the numbers with little difficulty. Genevieve might have been incredibly beautiful, that was nothing new to her, but she certainly was not dumb. In fact, for the better part of her time with Wolfie and the Reinhardts, she had learned her fair share about the ins and outs of financial matters and, much to her husband’s great pleasure, she had taken interest in discussing business matters with him as well, sharing her intention to take over the Lovecraft Apothecaries as soon as she could find good reason to pull the entire business right out of her greedy aunts’ hands.

But her mind continuously traveled between the task at hand and the task that had been at hand almost a week ago. It had been since then that she’d carried around her mother’s mirror as if it were an amulet, the decorous memory one that was often nuzzled in the folds of her robes or of her dress, one that she often reached for, almost subconsciously. The remnants of fear lingered, the thought of losing her mother still held her captive.

After several more moments passed, the young woman stood with purpose, “I need some time alone,” she announced before walking past the woman and out onto the hallway, ignoring the staff members that were tidying about as she made her way outdoors. Taking a shaky breath when she reached the edge of the garden she closed her eyes and reminded herself to keep it together. Nothing was lost. Nothing was broken. Everything would be just fine.

Her brow wrinkled when she heard someone’s voice echo through the iron gates, and almost immediately, she walked over to see what the fuss was about. Noticing who was there, her frown deepened as she made her way over with purpose, waving off the young man who looked positively flustered as he noticed her and the expression on her face. “Go away,” she said firmly, and the man stopped in his tracks, as she moved over to the gates.

“Ah-Mr. Donnelly, I thought I said I’d never want to see you again,” she started, a smile decorating her lips and in direct contrast to the words that she spoke. “Now what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to? Perhaps you left your toy Ministry badge in the storage room?” she wondered but made no move to open the door. “Or perhaps you were just so absolutely enchanted with me, you couldn’t stay away?” she added, “In case you weren’t aware,” she leaned in a little, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I am a married woman.”

Phillip had expected an attendant to greet him at the door, and he'd prepared a half-assed excuse for why he was there. He figured whoever was working the front gate probably wasn't the most powerful wand in the shop, so he planned to confuse them with big words until they let him inside. However, Mrs. Reinhardt answering the gate herself was not a part of Phillip's plan, and he stumbled over his feet a little as she greeted him. Regaining his balance, Phillip cleared his throat at her whisper and took a breath. Phillip wasn't exactly duplicitous, and he was barely ambitious, so he was not equipped to lie and charm Genevieve.

"Good for you," he said dryly and pulled the stack of paperwork from his briefcase. "Some signatures are missing." Phillip pushed the pages to the edge of the gate's bars but did not dare to try to put them through the openings. He imagined there were spells and curses on the perimeter, and he quite liked his limbs attached to his body. Phillip held the pages just out of her reach, on purpose, and sighed. "And there is another matter I would like to discuss with you, privately," He looked in the direction of the guard she had dismissed, and then his green eyes flickered back to her, remembering her comments only moments ago.

"Regarding a certain item I'd like to return to you, in exchange for information," Phillip frowned uncomfortably and quickly filled in the blanks of his statement before she'd have a chance to accuse him of something else. While processing what the ministry had taken from the estate, Phillip came upon an item that piqued his interest. He didn't quite know how it worked or how it had been made, but two things had become evident to him as he inspected it: it had something to do with portal magic , and it was part of a set.

The item in question glowed inside his briefcase, peeking out from the opening when he'd grabbed the paperwork. Phillip had been careful to cover his tracks when he'd pulled it from the shelf in the ministry, and if he were lucky (which, typically, he was not), it'd look like a clerical error if anyone noticed it was missing.

The corners of her lips rose a fraction of an inch, all too familiar with the sort of reactions that boys like Phillip Donnelly had when encountered by women such as herself. Had she been a little more meanspirited and significantly more desperate to recover her mother’s things than she already was, she might have used that to her advantage. Nevertheless, Genevieve was a woman of great pride and the thought of ever wanting to enchant, much less entice, someone like Ministry pencil pusher made her shudder internally. Even so, she was married, and she knew that her husband would not take too kindly to her wandering about, even if it was all in jest.

Deeper yet, Genevieve suspected that such parlor tricks would not work on Phillip and almost as if she had called it herself, he responded to her in that monotonous tone that indicated he was hardly amused by her mischief. But he had reacted to it, she reminded herself, or maybe he was that clumsy sort of train wreck all the time and pretended otherwise to please his superiors. His professionalism left much to be desired, she had realized as much last time, so maybe it had been something else. She couldn’t be too bothered at this point to dig further.

“Ah, paperwork,” she said, her tone falling flat on purpose as she sighed heavily before sticking her hand out and extending it demandingly as if he was wasting her time just by standing there. And he was, she had plenty better things to do than to entertain this dolt. “Hand them over,” she said angrily, displeased by the way he pulled the papers away just out of her reach. “I knew it,” she rolled her eyes at him, “is that what you Ministry folk call this harassment now? Exchanging information,” she laughed cynically, using her fingers in air quotations as she alluded to something else. She was enjoying making him uncomfortable, at least it was the more entertaining aspect of all of their unpleasant exchanges.

“Unlock the gates,” she said after a moment, “Mr. Donnelly will be joining us for afternoon tea, in the garden,” she said pointedly, as if to emphasize that she would not allow him another moment into her home without him stating his business first and her deciding it was worth her time. The man near the gate looked at her a little confused, but did not say a word as he walked over and unlocked the gate.

Once he stepped instead, she walked a step ahead of him, looking over her shoulder once, the expression on her face expecting that he’d follow along. “There are many wandering eyes and ears here, do not speak of things in front of strangers unless you’re absolutely sure they’ve no interest in harming you,” she shared as if it were a matter of fact, “and next time,” she paused, stopping in her tracks as she turned to him, “do not come to a lady’s house without explicit invitation and certainly not without stating your business first,” she added. Not that she’d want there to be a next time but it was obvious he needed these things pointed out to him.

“Now, on to your business,” she stopped at the round table near the edge of the garden, waiting by her chair as she looked at him with expectation. “What makes you think I’d ever have reason to share any information with you, Mr. Donnelly? I’d like my memories returned but I’m hardly desperate.”

Everything about the way that Genevieve carried herself screamed wealth and status and grated on Phillip immensely. From the way she'd said afternoon tea to what he was sure were sprawling gardens in which they would have said tea irritated him, and the wizard grumbled something under his breath as the gates creaked open. As he stepped over the threshold, Phillip wondered if there were more spells on the gates to keep unwanted visitors out or nasty little secrets locked inside but realized he'd probably regret knowing the answer.

Following Mrs. Reinhardt to the garden, Phillip stopped at the table and returned her look with confusion. His green eyes slid from her to peer at either side of himself, wondering why they were waiting and missing the point. Phillip's upbringing, status, and lack of etiquette were evident at that moment, but he didn't notice that either and scowled instead.

"Because I don't think you know what it does, and I do," Phillip was betting on the fact that know-it-all Pureblood witch with too-much-time and Merlin knew how many sickles would hate him knowing more than she did. Especially about something that belonged to her precious family.

He was betting she'd want to trade, but Phillip had no idea just how much he'd likely have to sacrifice in the deal.

Genevieve took a seat as the chair was pulled out by one of the staff members on her behalf, sweeping the dress that she wore to the side to avoid getting it unattractively trapped under her as she crossed her legs. She waited a moment longer as she contemplated him, suspicion written all over her face as she considered what part of what he said was true and if she was foolish to want to think that he had any idea about what he spoke of.

“Whether I know what this is or not is of no consequence to you,” she retorted almost immediately, her features returning to the scowl she often wore when she looked upon men such as Phillip—those she had already decided were not deserving of her time nor her interest. However, he had brought something to the forefront that she had been hoping to avoid, insight into the life of the woman that she relentlessly revered but knew so little of.

“Anyway, I thought we had agreed that you were hell bent on destroying my reputation or what not,” she added, looking down at the teacup in her hands before momentarily returning her gaze to him as she reached for the sugar.

“But never mind that, what information are you looking for in return?” she asked. Genevieve should have considered that her giving in might be interpreted as weakness but when it came to her mother and her mother’s things, it was difficult not to practically jump at the chance to know more.

Placing the object in question on the table, Phillip hunched over in his seat and stared at her. She had no idea of how much consequence it was to him. For years and years, Phillip had been looking for answers about what had happened to his family. And maybe this artifact wasn’t the Holy Grail, but he was dead, certain it held answers. Phillip knew the object was not directly correlated to the disappearance of his mother and sister, but the magic bound to it was so like the vanishing cabinet, he couldn’t help but hope it might shine some light, that it might tell him what to look for next because, in truth, Phillip was running out of questions to pursue.

“I don’t care about your family,” he said, blurted really, and then sat back. Clearing his throat, Phillip tried to remember to keep his opinions to himself. But the sound of a professor telling him this is no way to convince people to help you whispered in his ears, and he frowned again. “What I mean to say is that I have no interest or intention on destroying you or your reputation.” Phillip rarely said much, and while the long-winded explanation was unlike him, it didn’t make it any less sincere.

“I need to know what type of magic binds this device to another,” Vanishing cabinets were notoriously tricky items, especially ones that had been linked. The one his mother had used was supposed to transport her to the states, but she’d disappeared entirely instead. And just like Gamp’s law said things could not be summoned from nothing, Phillip believed that the sort of energy in a person couldn’t disappear into nothing either. It had to go somewhere, and this object was the key.

“I believe you may be in possession of another artifact linked to this one. And I would like to study it, and in return, I will share my findings with you.” The idea of telling Genevieve anything left a bad taste in Phillip’s mouth, and he was sure she shared the sentiment, but at this point, he was the desperate one.